The Subtext of Concern
by lilsherlockian1975
Summary: In the wake of the Moriarty broadcast, Sherlock has taken to asking Molly to text him when she gets home, to let him know she's safe. Is he simply worried for her safety or does it mean something more? *one shot*


_**So, this little story happened because of something I saw on tumblr the other day that had been reblogged by broomclosetkink, so I'm gifting it to her... it inspired me. Hope you like it broomy! Your stories always make me smile!**_

 _ **The wonderful MizJoely beta'd this for me even though she is very busy and I am very grateful. However, if you find any mistakes I take full credit for them.**_

 _ **I own nothing. Please enjoy!**_

* * *

It had been happening for three weeks. The three weeks since the broadcast. If they were working together, he'd simply ask her before he or she left. If he wasn't around, off chasing down a lead for instance, she usually received a text. She'd gotten quite used to it; his concern for her safety.

At first she thought nothing of it whatsoever. Well, not nothing, perhaps. Having Sherlock Holmes demand that she notify him that she was home, safely locked in her flat did make Molly pause and wonder, if only for a moment. But there was so much going on, so many tests, he was otherwise so preoccupied, that she decided it was just general worry for the situation. He had changed, after all. The events of the last three years had had an effect on the detective; he seemed more concerned for his friends, and even less harsh with his criticism.

One night, after not having heard from Sherlock all day, she had gone to bed assuming he was too busy to contact her. He and John were, according to Mary, somewhere in Wales. Just as she started to drift to sleep she heard her text alert.

 **Can I assume you made it home okay?-SH**

She smiled in spite of how exhausted she was.

 **Yes, in bed as a matter of fact. Are you safe?-Mx**

 **Dead lead. On our way back. Sleep well Molly Hooper-SH**

And thus their little routine was born. _Text me when you get home,_ he'd say as he was leaving the lab or she was taking off for the day. He'd even say it in front of John Watson, which surprised her more than she'd like to admit. She didn't miss John's sideways smile, though he never said a word (at least not in front of his best friend).

One day after the pair had been in and out of St. Barts several times, Sherlock stepped outside to take a call from his brother.

"Have you noticed, Molly?" John asked.

She was a bit preoccupied with the soil samples Sherlock had thrust in her face and asked her to prepare. "Noticed what, John?"

"How worried he is," he explained.

Molly looked up. "Yes, well, Ji... I mean Moriarty all over again. I can't imagine, after all his work, what this must be like for him. After spending years away from everyone he cares about, to have that bastard suddenly back." She shivered.

"Well, yes, but he's worried about..."

Just then the door opened up and Sherlock burst through full of nervous energy. "Quickly John! Mycroft has finally found something useful," he barked as he gathered up his beloved coat.

John jumped up, rolling his eyes at Molly.

Sherlock turned to her. "You'll take care of those samples for me?" She nodded. "Right, and text me when you get home? A cab not the Tube, Molly," he said in a warning tone. She nodded again. Then they were gone.

 _The cabs._ The cabs that were always waiting outside St. Barts or her flat and the cabbies, for some reason, always refused her money. She had tried to ask Sherlock about it after the second time it happened. He just changed the subject.

The strangest thing of all was that Molly was well aware of her security detail. She knew she had one (or at _least_ one) of Mycroft's agents lurking around her wherever she went. If Sherlock wanted a report of her whereabouts, she was certain he could get it from his brother. She tried not to think about it too much. She was fairly successful until she found herself chatting with her friend Gwen in the canteen one afternoon sixteen days after the broadcast.

"...is so funny." She had been talking about her husband, the love of her life, making Molly smile and giggle as she shared funny and endearing stories about the man. "He's not really one to say I love you. I mean I know he does, mind you. He _has_ said it. But if we aren't together and I'm getting home before him he says 'text me when you get home, let me know you're safe.' The other night I asked him why he always does that and he says, 'It's my way of saying I love you'. I swear, the man's a closet romantic." She giggled and took a drink of her tea.

Molly froze. She had tried, unsuccessfully she now realised, to quash her feelings for Sherlock, especially since his return. What he really needed was a friend, not some moon-eyed girl, pining over him. But suddenly she couldn't get Gwen's words out of her mind. She shook her head, Sherlock wasn't like other men; if he said he was concerned for her safety, then that's all it was. Though, now that she thought about it, he never really said... anything. He never exactly elaborated as to why he was so concerned, or if he indeed was. Had he received a direct threat to her? She thought about it for a moment as she finished her break then went back to work.

Four days later, it happened. Sherlock disappeared, as did his texts. Molly started getting text messages from John Watson instead.

 **Hey Molls. Just checking in. You make it home okay?-JW**

 **Yes, I'm home. How's it going?-Mx**

 **Can't really say much but he's fine since that's what you're asking.-JW**

Molly rolled her eyes at John's forwardness.

Two days after that, Mary Watson went into labour and Molly really got worried, because John was called back. She went to the hospital to be with Mary until her husband could arrive and Molly couldn't stop worrying that Sherlock would be alone doing... well whatever he was doing. She left the new parents, after getting to hold little Eva Louise, and went home to collapse and get some much needed rest. She wasn't expecting a text message this time, he was busy after all. John had said he was closing in on the consulting criminal. But as she was getting out of the bath she heard her text alert.

 **Miss Hooper, I need to ascertain your whereabouts, even though I'm fully aware of them.**

It wasn't signed, though Molly had no doubt who had sent it.

 **I'm home Mycroft, I'm fine. Is he well?-Mx**

As soon as she sent it she regretted adding the kiss at the end of her initial. _Perhaps he won't understand what it means,_ she hoped.

 **He is fine and I will let him know that you are as well. Am I to assume the kiss was an accident?**

 _Damnit._

 **Yes, so sorry. Thank you Mycroft. Goodnight.-M**

That was the end of that exchange.

She couldn't shake her nerves the next day. Not knowing what was going on, if Sherlock was in danger, was driving her to distraction, but she managed to get through work and make it home. She took a shower and made herself dinner. She grabbed a cup of tea and turned on the telly. Just as she was settling in to pull up her DVR, the news broke. _James Moriarty has been shot and killed in a covert operation this evening. The man behind the nationwide broadcast was found in an undisclosed location..._

Molly couldn't decide on an emotion. She was thrilled that it was over but she was terrified that something could have happened to Sherlock. She picked up her mobile and tried to figure out who to call. John was with his wife and child. Mycroft would no doubt be busy with... what was his job exactly? Perhaps Greg would have some information. She was still staring at the infuriatingly useless device when it rang, nearly scaring her half to death. She didn't recognize the number.

"Hello?"

"Dr. Hooper?" a female voice said.

"Yes," Molly replied.

"I work for Mr. Holmes. I was asked to phone you and let you know that Sherlock is fine. He will be tied up for the next several hours but he wanted you to know that you are safe and no longer in danger."

"Right, I ah, saw the news," Molly said with a shaky voice.

"Yes, that leaked earlier than we expected. Things don't always go as planned, do they?" she asked.

"No, I don't suppose they do, " Molly said, not knowing how to converse with a member of MI6. "Um, when is he coming home- I mean back. When will he be done?"

The woman actually giggled. "He's being debriefed Dr. Hooper. He'll be in contact soon, I'm sure."

"Oh, okay. Well, thank you for letting me know."

"Of, course," she said. "Shall I give him a message for you?"

"Um, sure ah..." Molly paused, she didn't know what to tell Sherlock, especially through a third party. "Just tell him..." She smiled, when a thought suddenly popped into her mind. "Tell him to text me when he gets home. To let me know he's safe."

"Certainly," the woman said before she rang off.

Molly tossed her mobile on the coffee table and breathed a much needed sigh of relief.

She must have fallen asleep because she woke up to the sound of someone knocking on her door at... looking at clock on the mantel, _3.13 a.m.?_ Molly got up, rubbing her eyes, and looked out the peephole. _Sherlock?_ She immediately opened the door.

"Is everything okay?" she asked.

"Of course," he said, stepping in as Molly shut the door.

They stood in slightly awkward silence for several seconds before Molly finally spoke.

"You did it. I knew you would." She smiled.

Sherlock didn't return it. "You didn't answer my texts."

Molly looked over to her coffee table. "Oh, I fell asleep." She laughed.

Sherlock was still not smiling or showing any emotion, as a matter of fact. "Right, well since you're fine then I'll just..." He didn't finish his sentence but he started for the door.

Molly moved to stop him. "Are you - are you mad at me?"

His eyes were focused on the floor. "You wanted me to text you, but you didn't respond. I was... confused."

"I _am_ sorry, Sherlock. It wasn't intentional." She studied him for a moment. He was acting strange, even for him. "What's wrong? Please tell me."

He huffed and ran his hands through his hair. "I- I thought we had a system and when you didn't respond I was..." He rolled his eyes. "Afraid that since the threat was over that you wouldn't want to... continue."

Now Molly was confused. "Continue? Continue what?"

He finally looked her in the eyes for the first time since he arrived. "Our association and our... conveyance of," he paused and swallowed. "Affection."

 _Oh!_ she thought, and she was certain that she felt her heart actually melt. "So, when you say to me 'text me when you get home', you're really saying..." She couldn't finish it, she saw the vulnerability in his eyes, the rawness. He was scared.

"Yes," he said as he inched closer.

"I just fell asleep, Sherlock. If I hadn't I would've responded. I'd be more than happy to continue our _association_."

His entire body relaxed and he moved even closer. "I believe I'd like to try additional means of conveyance, if that's okay with you," he said with a smile as he put his hands on her hips.

Molly ran her hands up his arms until they found his shoulders. "And what exactly did you have in mind?" she asked, trying to contain her overwhelming joy, but frankly failing.

"Oh, I imagine we'll think of something," he said just before his lips met her in the first of a series of mind-blowing kisses.

 _ **Thanks so much for reading. Please let me know what you think. Find me on tumblr, same name ~Lil!~**_


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